


Down Time

by krysalys



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Mission Fic, Pre-Slash, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysalys/pseuds/krysalys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission gone FUBAR, a recovering Team Sheppard recuperates on Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down Time

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little quiet after-the-mission fic where the team gets a taste of peaceful domesticity. Which they needed desperately.

They strolled down the throughway, laughing at Ronon’s antics trying to get away from the cattle being led to the judging booth.  The Setadan practically danced back and forth in front of them, grimacing, growling, and futilely reaching for his absent blaster as he tried to get as much distance between himself and the placid bovines.

“Y’know, I’m really glad we tagged along for this,” Cameron Mitchell chuckled as Ronon cursed and jerked away from a freshly steaming patty.

“Is there some reason he’s so afraid of these cows?” Vala asked, her eyes widened in mock innocence.

Rodney and John shrugged, even as they couldn’t suppress their amused grins at Ronon’s distress.

“Although we have similar creatures in our… ‘country’,” Teyla smoothly amended her original wording, “It is my understanding that Ronon has not had… pleasant experiences before.”

“But… but… they’re _cows_ ,” Cameron snorted.  “Hell, I _ride_ those suckers for fun, sometimes.”

The premiere teams of Atlantis and Stargate Command sauntered past the long, open-ended wooden buildings containing all the animals awaiting judging.  The smell of fresh hay, molasses-laden feed and animals kept in fairly close proximity hung thickly in the air along with hot cooking grease, overheated humans, and the sticky-sweetness of ice cream and cotton candy.  Giant fans on either ends of the buildings stirred the humidity-laden air enough to keep the animals comfortable, and were popular gathering places for parents taking a few moments to cool overheated babies and small children.

Rodney’s hands were full, and for once he wasn’t drooling over technology.  A long plastic bag of multicolored cotton candy dangled from his right hand while he juggled a bright green plastic flute half-full with strawberry daiquiri and a greasy paper plate of fried Oreos draped over top of a heavily sugared funnel cake.  He looked completely blissed out, and it was anyone’s guess how long it’d take the astrophysicist to come down from the incipient sugar high.

John licked the grease from his lips after he quickly finished his pilfered fried Oreo.  “Well, there’s a lot Ronon hasn’t told us from, well, _before_ ,” he hedged.  “I figure he’ll let us in on the story behind the cow thing if he wants to.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c piped in.  He looked utterly innocuous in his black t-shirt and cargo shorts, although Rodney hadn’t contained his snort of amusement over the bright red cowboy hat the Jaffa had pulled down low to cover the gold seal on his forehead.

Still hadn’t stopped Rodney from buying his own black suede cowboy hat.

About fifteen feet ahead, Ronon stopped off to the side of the throughway and glared at his friends.  “I can hear you, you know,” he growled.

“Yup, I sure do, buddy,” John shot back with an insouciant grin.  “C’mon, we’re almost through this, and then I’ll take you to the monster truck show.”

Teyla quirked an eyebrow in inquiry, and Daniel took it upon himself to explain, seeing as how Rodney’s mouth was currently full of fried dough.  “By now you’ve seen how large some of our vehicles can be, right?”  At Teyla’s nod, he continued.  “We call them monster trucks because we put giant wheels on specially designed trucks, with the intent of driving over smaller vehicles.”

“Are there people in them?” Ronon perked up as he once again danced around a teaming cow patty.

“No, of course not, you ogre, and would you please for the love of God get out of the middle of the throughway?” Rodney berated his teammate.  “I swear you’re doing that on purpose so you _can_ step in that stuff!"

“Shouldn’t have to make way for a bunch of stupid…” Ronon trailed off with a muttered word in his native language.  “It’s like they’re more important than us,” he finished with a sneer.

“Well, considering that if they win top prizes in the competition, then yes, they’ll be worth more than most people get paid in a year,” Rodney retorted with an eye roll.  “So yes, they’re more important than we are, in their owners’ eyes.”

“No, Ronon, there aren’t any people in the smaller cars,” Sam continued Daniel’s explanation, ignoring Rodney’s outburst.  “It’s a glorified testosterone-fest with loud music and lots of destruction.  I get the impression you’ll love it,” she shot a sly grin at John, who chuckled.

“Yup, pretty much,” he replied.  “It’ll be awesome, Ronon.  Heavy metal getting smashed, music so loud your ears’ll bleed, and a couple hundred people screaming for more all around you.”

“Oh yeah, and don’t forget the scantily clad eye candy,” Rodney interjected.  “Bouncing around on the backs of the trucks when they shoot t-shirts at the crowd?  Almost worth the brain-death the rest of the show brings on.”

“Ow!” the scientist hastily stumbled away from Sam’s pinching fingers and retreated behind John’s left side.  “Hey, I bruise easily!”

Finally through the 4H section of the county faire, the group strolled past the horse barns before coming up flush with the arena on their right.  “So!” Cameron clapped his hands together in anticipation.  “Who’s goin’ in to the show?”

Everyone agreed, even Rodney when he was threatened with Ronon finishing all of his cotton candy and funnel cake (“Fine, but you touch the Oreos and no power to your room for a month!”), and they all piled into the open-air stadium for an hour of metal-rending madness.

“Hm, after that I have a sudden urge to chew tobacco,” Rodney snarked as they waited for the bulk of the crowd to disperse.  “That and scream ‘yee-haw’ with all the yokels while making out with my _sister_.  My god, why the hell did I agree to this IQ-reducing fun-fest again?”

“Because Elizabeth said if you didn’t you’d be banned from the labs for the rest of leave?” John retorted.  “C’mon, I told her we’d meet her and Zelenka at the Ferris wheel after we’re done here.”  He clapped his best friend gently on the shoulder and steered the group towards the carnival section.

“Ah yes, the piece de resistance of our day,” Rodney continued to gripe half-heartedly.  “Riding on metal death traps constructed entirely by uneducated inbred freaks of nature whose idea of a good time is torn between getting yet another tattoo and drinking a few cases of beer.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ronon interjected.  “What?  I like tattoos.”

“Just depends on where you put them,” Daniel commented with a head tilt in Teal’c’s direction.

“Indeed,” the Jaffa intoned.  “I have also wondered what it would be like to get a tattoo of my choice.”

“Then you need to come with me,” Vala practically bounced in excitement.  “I saw this vendor who specializes in something called ‘henna’.  Temporary, and yet they look real, and you can get whatever you want!”  She locked elbows with both men and began steering them to the beginning of an adjacent row of vendor’s booths positioned right before the carnival games, but halted when a thought obviously occurred to her.  “Daniel?”

The archaeologist smiled and shot a look at his team leader, who nodded.  “Sure Vala.  Let me tag along and help you out with the money side of things, okay?”

“We’ll meet you in an hour by the Tilt-A-Whirl,” Sam called out as the four broke off from the main group and headed for their goal.  “You know, I wonder if we should worry what kinds of henna tattoos they’re gonna get,” she commented.

“I’d say with Daniel along they’d be all right, but then again…” Cameron shrugged, grinning.  “Trouble magnet.”

“Oh, c’mon, we’re at a frickin’ county fair,” Rodney started, but ‘mph’ed when John’s hand slapped over his mobile mouth.

“Don’t say it, Rodney,” he warned.  “We really don’t need that kinda crap today.”

Rodney’s eyes narrowed, and he vindictively licked John’s palm to free his mouth.  “Oh yes, you superstitious dolt,” he snapped once his mouth was free.  Although wasn’t it interesting that Sheppard was blushing?  “The worst that could happen is they tick off some drunken yokels and get into a fight, get banned from the fair and maybe even get arrested.  Woo, so much worse than getting shot at or captured and tortured by hostiles.”

John ground to a halt in the middle of the path, causing suddenly disgruntled fairgoers to break around the small group now blocking the way.  “Hey, hey,” he snagged Rodney’s upper arms in a firm grip.  “We’re here to relax, Rodney, okay?  You need to settle down, buddy.”

Cameron and Sam exchanged concerned looks.  They’d been wondering how long it’d take for one of the Atlantis team to show the strain from their most recent FUBARed mission.  That was the whole reason the Atlantean command staff was taking a holiday here on Earth – mandatory down time, and Rodney was unfortunately the one who’d needed it the most.  And was the one who wasn’t benefiting from it.

John snaked a quick glance at Teyla, Sam and Cameron out of the corner of his eye, and they nodded and faded into the crowd.  They understood… he needed time to talk privately with his friend.  They’d meet up with Elizabeth and Radek by the Ferris wheel and wait for John and Rodney there.

John freed Rodney’s hands of the trash left over from his eating frenzy, and steered his friend over to a bench that’d just opened up, the noisy family leaving behind almost as much trash as there were people.  Rodney grimaced at the slovenliness of the tourists, and yet primly sat down at John’s silent urging.

Instead of talking things through, since he knew Rodney’d been doing that _ad nauseum_ with the SGC shrinks once he was well on the road to recovery, John just sat there watching the crowd flow by with his left arm resting on the back of the bench behind his friend.

John wasn’t sure how to deal with this, so instead he concentrated on being supportive and, well, _there_.  As much as Rodney talked most of the time, John knew his friend was about as comfortable talking about his _feelings_ as he was.  Which was… not at all.

So John shifted until his arm was lightly draped around Rodney’s broad back, his left hand gently cupping the far shoulder.  Rodney tensed, but slowly relaxed when it became obvious that that was the extent of John’s actions.  They allowed the sounds and smells of the carnival to wash over them, unbothered by the close press of humanity in the thick heat of the early summer evening.  John looked up and noticed the sky glowing at the western horizon as the sun slowly set, the bright yellow shading into a deeper orange and on to russet.  The sky around the sinking orb blazed with a wash of colors, and John quietly marveled over the natural beauty unfolding.

Rodney tilted his head back and regarded the setting sun, showing off a long expanse of pale neck.  “You know, we’d be better able to see that on the Ferris wheel,” he remarked quietly.

“Yeah?”

The scientist shot him an almost incredulous _‘Are you really as stupid as you pretend to be?’_ look and shrugged his laden shoulder.  “C’mon, the others are probably wondering if I need to be committed or something.”  He rose, wincing at the pull of healing scars on his back, and held out his hand.

“No time like the present, Sheppard,” he stated with a slight lopsided smile, and John joined him in pushing through the crowd to the Ferris wheel.

Yes, there _was_ no time like the present, and John was going to make sure he and Rodney got a booth all to themselves, so he could show the scientist exactly how happy he was that Rodney was okay.

 

 

~fin~


End file.
